


Girl Things

by LaviniaLavender



Series: Don't Call Me Princess [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Gen, Gender Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-28
Updated: 2010-03-28
Packaged: 2017-10-08 09:49:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/75428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaviniaLavender/pseuds/LaviniaLavender
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dee saw Dad had tears in his eyes, she knew she was going to die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Girl Things

**Author's Note:**

> My roommate and I have been brainstorming about girl!Dean and the myriad of accompanying gender issues, and last night she burned out [three awesome fics](http://users.livejournal.com/_lavinia_/67896.html#cutid1) which everyone should read. I wrote one of my own.

  
Deanna held onto the cracked bathroom counter and forced herself to take deep, calming breaths. She could not panic. She was ten years old, Dad counted on her to take care of Sammy for whole weekends now, and she couldn't disappoint him by freaking out and bawling like a little girl. So there was a problem - maybe she had been infected by something bad - she would man up, go straight to Dad and tell him what's wrong so he could fix it.  
She pulled her underwear and jeans back up, washed her hands vigorously so they wouldn't shake, and stepped out of the bathroom. Sam was playing with Bear on the motel room, and no way in hell was she going to scare him with this. "Dad, can I talk to you outside?"  
He looked up from the gun he was cleaning, and frowned when he saw her face. "What's wrong, Deanna?"  
She couldn't speak, but jerked her head toward the door.  
As Dad stood up to follow her out, Sam glanced up at them curiously, and Deanna tried to smile for him.  
Outside, she glanced around once at the empty parking lot, then turned back to Dad, who bent toward her with both hands on his knees, forehead knit in his serious face. She had to say it quickly, bravely. "I'm bleeding."  
Dad looked alarmed. "Where? Did you cut yourself?"  
"No." Helpless, she flicked her fingers downward from where she had been clutching them before her chest. "I'm bleeding - there."  
Dad's eyes went very, very wide, and in spite of everything Deanna had promised herself, she felt a rock in her throat and tears welling up. It had to be really bad or Dad wouldn't look so scared -  
Then he dropped his head to his chest, as his hands rose and took hold of her shoulders, clenching them tight. "Dad?" Her voice cracked. "I'm sorry - I swear I didn't do anything -"  
"No." His voice was so low she hardly heard it. "Shhhh. It's okay, Deanna. It's okay."  
But it couldn't be okay because Dad still wouldn't look her in the face. She sniffed, brushing her eyes quickly, and his grip tightened. At last, he raised his head, and when she saw his eyes were wet too she knew she was going to die.  
"It's okay, Deanna," he said again, and pulled her to him, one hand on the back of her head. "Nothing's wrong with you."  
She bit back a sob, forced herself to breathe deeply, and managed to get out, "Then why - why are you upset?"  
Dad squeezed her so tight she couldn't breathe, then let her go to hold her shoulders again in front of him. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Deanna. You aren't sick - nothing's wrong with you. It's just - something that happens. With girls."  
She stared at him, finally feeling more confused than scared. This was...a girl thing?  
Dad explained, and she couldn't quite believe it, but Dad wouldn't lie to her. Afteward, he got Sammy and they drove to a nearby convenience store where he picked up some packages. The lady behind the counter gave her a pitying look that made Deanna want to punch her in the face.  
Back in the motel, Dad took her to the bathroom where he fumbled unwrapping one of the pads to show her how they worked, but Deanna got the point pretty quickly. It wasn't hard, after all.  
Sam wanted to know what was going on, but neither Dad nor she were about to tell him. Instead she pulled out his backpack stuffed with storybooks and read to him until he forgot. But she couldn't forget the thick uncomfortable pad between her legs, couldn't forget what gross and stupid things her body was doing. Every month, for the rest of her life? That _sucked_.


End file.
